


Take What's Left

by peter_panda



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Brotherly Banter, Dirty Talk, F/M, First Time, I didn't like their dialogue so I changed it, Jaime has a consent kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-23 18:02:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20012518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peter_panda/pseuds/peter_panda
Summary: “I think,” says Tyrion, halfway drunk already, “you want to give her another sword.”Podrick chokes on his wine and Jaime gives his brother the stink eye as he pats the kid's back, trying to ease his coughs.“That was the worst thing you've ever said,” he says, exasperated, “and you've said a lot of things.”(Or; Jaime gets some tough love from his brother before he goes and finds Brienne in her rooms)





	Take What's Left

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing anything remotely smutty so please forgive me if it's incredibly awkward. You've been warned.
> 
> 29.09.2019 Update: I added a little section that's been going around in my head for a little while.

“I want to protect her.”

“I think,” says Tyrion, halfway drunk already, “you want to give her another sword.” 

Podrick chokes on his wine and Jaime gives his brother the stink eye as he pats the kid's back, trying to ease his coughs. 

“That was the worst thing you've ever said,” he says, exasperated, “and you've said a lot of things.”

“Call me a liar, then.” 

“She's a highborn lady, not some kitchen maid-”

“Right, because you bed those left and right-”

“I don't recall asking for your advice-”

“Oh for fuck's sake, Jaime, go fuck her or wed her or worship at her feet, I don't care, just stop pining like a maiden in a song, it's _excruciating_ -”

“I'm so sorry that _my_ broken heart causes _you_ so much hardship.”

“Not your heart, your sulking-”

“Knights do not sulk, brother.” He pouts into his wine. “We just brood, as warriors do.”

Tyrion says “Fuck off,” but he still chuckles a bit. Jaime will take that as a win. 

“I don't know what to say to her.”

“You once seduced all four daughters of Lord Warrick without meaning to, by just standing there in your stupid armor.”

“I was sixteen!”

“Oh fuck you! I've been sixteen, I don't remember that happening to me. Podrick! You've been sixteen more recently, did that ever happen to you?”

“Can't say it did, my lord,” Podrick answers, smiling apologetically at Jaime.

“You see, this is why pretty people are all so insufferable,” Tyrion continues in mock fuming. “They think this is how everyone lives, while the rest of us are getting our asses kicked by life.”

“Woe is you.” Jaime rolls his eyes. “And I've been standing around Brienne in my armor for a while now, I doubt that it's working.”

“I'm sure it would, eventually.”

“How would you know, you just met her-”

“She loved Renly Baratheon, once. She's put up with you all this time. She must have a thing for pretty fools. And you are the prettiest, most foolish man in all Seven Kingdoms.”

Jaime throws him a book he finds. It flies over Tyrion's head and falls onto his bed with a soft thud.

His brother smirks at him, entirely nonchalant as he takes another sip and Jaime wants to strangle him because how can he be so convincing when he speaks like a green boy who just realised he had a cock? 

~••~

“I think Giantsbane was right about that,” he says, trying not to linger on the way the fire dances across her features, making her a bronze statue, an idol for the Warrior, “no one should sleep alone for this long, especially during times like these.”

“Perhaps you should go take your own advice,” she scoffs.

“I'm trying.”

She looks at him. There is something in her eyes that he never saw in there before, not for him, not for anyone else. She looks.....vulnerable, almost. Unbelieving. Fearful. He waits for her to do something, maybe throw her goblet at his head. 

“You're drunk,” she says eventually, as if she's talking to herself rather than him.

“Send me away, then,” he says, full of anguish. What if she does what she's told, for once? What would happen to him, then? Would he burn alive, like that nightmare he's kept having since he was seventeen?

The silence stretches for so long, he starts to fret that it would snap. Throw them both off kilter.

"Is this revenge?"

"What are you-"

Her lips are thin. "She has a new husband and she threatened to have you killed, so you do-this."

He almost laughs from disbelief but catches himself in time. "Gods you are truly impossible, aren't you? This has nothing to do with-I told you. I told you that it would always be yours. That I would die right next to you. What more do you need me to say? Brienne..." he can't find the right words or put the ones he has in an order that makes sense. When he continues, his voice is too faint for his own liking. "Do you truly not know? How can you not know?"

She looks at him as if he just delivered her a blow. Like she's confused. Like she truly doesn't know.

“I'll leave,” he says. This is what he owes her.

“Don't.” She tries to look him in the eye, falters, then finds his eyes again. “I-I've never....with anyone before.” Once more, she lowers her eyes. 

“You don't have to.” It's almost a sigh out of his lips, but he means it. He means it more than anything he's every said. He may be a lot of things, but he's not _that_. He'd never be _that_.

“I don't know how.”

“I can show you.” He can't move. It's like he's fixed at that particular patch of stone. His feet refuse to twitch. His arms are too heavy to hold. He can barely breathe.

She stares at him for a long moment, as if she's weighing and measuring him. _Don't let me disappoint her_ , he begs to whomever might be listening. _Please, not her_. 

She nods, almost imperceptible. He breathes out, but still too scared to move. So she does. She comes to him, all bronze and blue and wonderful and she comes closer and closer until the tips of their noses are touching and her breath hits his lips when she lets it out. “You need to-” She gulps. “I told you-”

He kisses her with all he has.

~•~

She doesn't talk that much. Like a dutiful student, she watches and learns and never says a word for a long time. Meanwhile, Jaime can't shut himself up for the world. 

“May I?” he asks, before he reaches for each new patch of skin she reveals. “Will you allow me?” He kisses her throat, the valley between her breasts, her abdomen. When he presses his lips to her core, she gasps and breaks her silence.

“You don't- what are you-is this-”

“Only if you want me to,” he says, solemn. “Please, Brienne, please let me. I swear I will stop if you ask me to, but please, may I- can I have this?”

She shuts her eyes for a second, and then nods. So he goes back to what he was doing, exploring whatever is offered to him. Soon enough she's so wet that the insides of her thighs are glistening with it. He reaches for her entrance with one single finger, rubs at it slowly. She gasps again, opening her eyes. 

“Will you let me?” He doesn't know why he's whispering, maybe because his lungs are burning. 

She nods again.

“You gave me your lips,” he says, as he keeps rubbing there with just the tip of his finger, a maddening nothing of a touch. “You let me have a taste. We must leave something for your poor husband, don't you think?”

She lets out something that is more a sob than anything else. Her thighs rise on their own, chasing his touch. He's so aroused he feels like he can cry. He wants to. He wants to burry his face between her legs and weep there until she screams. But he gets a grip and keeps tormenting her in the sweetest way, because it will be beautiful when she-she will-

“Oh I know,” he says, as he finally pushes the finger inside that warm, soft place, “I'll be your husband. Then all I've taken would be mine to treasure anyway.”

“Jaime!” she sobs, unbeliveably snug around his finger, her thighs chasing his hand. Her lashes are wet. Yes, that's what he wanted. What he craved. To make her let herself go. Safe in his arms, in his eyes, in his heart.

“Tell me,” He leans his forehead on hers, gently nudging her nose with his. “Tell me you'll have me. Tell me you'll let me-”

“Jaime-”

“Tell me, or I'll have to stop.” His voice sounds wicked even to his own ears. “It's only proper, after all-”

“Fuck you,” she says with so much fire that he can't help but laugh. “Will you do something or should I go find Tormund?”

“Oh, but you musn't speak other men's names in this bed, my lady,” he whispers, gazing into her beautiful eyes, alight with fury and pleasure. 

“And if I do?” Always defiant.

“Well, I'm afraid I would have to make you forget them.”

“Then fucking do so.”

He smiles, razor sharp. “Your wish is my command.”


End file.
